


Blue Neighbourhood

by summerplaylist



Category: troye sivan - Fandom
Genre: M/M, based on the Blue Neighbourhood Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerplaylist/pseuds/summerplaylist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You weren't supposed to leave first,” Matt said, reaching down to touch Troye's shoulder. “You were supposed to wait for me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Neighbourhood

**WILD**

_Most dreams begin and end the same way, I think. Usually with tears, usually with a promise. My promise was you, always you, and when our dream ended—well, I didn't know how to feel. Was I supposed to feel this wild, this unwilling to let you go?_

 

/ / /

 

Matt didn't realize he was having an existential crisis until he was. And of course, Troye was there, as always. Holding him closer than best friends were probably supposed to hold each other—while Matt just cried and cried.

“What's wrong?” Troye asked for the hundredth time. His arms were impossibly long, like a spider's, maybe. But why was Matt comparing him to a spider? That wasn't what people did while they were having existential crises, right?

Without thinking, Matt laughed, and the bubble of tension overwhelming the room dissolved. Troye laughed, too, somehow managing to hold him closer. They were just a tangle of limbs, and Matt wished he could always feel this safe.

“Is it your father?” Troye asked, and there it was, the bubble of tension all over again. It expanded and filled Matt's lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

“Not this time.” Matt felt the tears coming, and it was terrible, how his tears were staining Troye's shirt. He had cried on Troye's shoulder one too many times in his life; one too many times due to the things his father had done.

“What is it like,” Matt asked, once most of the tears had subsided and his breath was no longer short and choppy. “What is it like to be yourself?”

Troye laughed. Such easy laughter, something Matt was never given the luxury to have. “I don't know. What's it like to be Matt?”

“I probably shouldn't say this—”

“Then don't.”

Matt forced himself to sound as serious as possible. This wasn't something he wanted laughed off—this was something that was a fucking weight, soul-crushing and terrifying. He needed to be told everything would be okay. That him feeling this way—that it wasn't the end of the world.

“I'm jealous of you, okay?” Matt spat, pushing Troye and all of his comfort and his long arms away. “You came out as gay when you were fifteen. You know exactly who you are. But me? I have no idea.”

“What are you talking about?”

Matt began to cry again. And Troye was all serious, of course, just like Matt wanted. But maybe he didn't want that after all. Maybe he should have just boiled it all down to something simple, a bad grade on an exam or something like that. Maybe he shouldn't have come out in such a pathetic way that his best friend couldn't even understand it.

He just had to go and make everything all serious. Of course he did; that was what Matt did best.

“You have time,” Troye promised. “You could always move in with us. Get that old bastard out of your life. Mum would be more than happy to—”

“It isn't him,” Matt said, brushing his tears away. “It isn't that, okay? This is about _me._ This is about who _I_ want to be.”

Sudden realization dawned on Troye's features. “Are you coming out?” he asked. His words were careful. Too sharp, and they would cut right through him. He hated knowing that about himself, hated knowing Troye had to be careful around him so he wouldn't break into a million pieces.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.” Troye bit his lip. “It wasn't easy for me, you know. Coming out was terrifying for me, too. I was so lucky that everything turned out the way it did.”

“I know. I told you I shouldn't have said that.” Matt took Troye's hands in his, wishing they could be sitting even closer than this. Wishing they could be that tangle of limbs again, with Troye's spider arms wrapped around his body and keeping all of his pieces together.

“You know I love you, right? I only want the best for you. That's all I've ever wanted.”

Matt didn't know what possessed him. But he kissed him. Hesitantly. Troye's lips were warm, Matt thought. Like the only warmth he would ever want or would ever need. Maybe he did like boys.

Maybe, but he still wasn't sure.

Troye ran his hands up and down Matt's back. They kissed like there was no tomorrow, and maybe there shouldn't have been. Maybe they should have stayed there, forever, kissing until they lost all sense of who they were and who they wanted to be.

But there was no way to know for sure. Not really.

 

**FOOLS**

_I had a dream last night. It was beautiful, and you were in it, of course. When I woke up and realized you weren't there, I began to cry. In the dream we were together and you were holding me close. You told me you were proud of me, and when I asked why, you laughed. It wasn't fair to wake up without you there. It wasn't fair to wake up and know I was the fool you had fallen for, the fool that forced you to be someone you weren't every single day of your life._

 

/ / /

 

Matt wanted them to be forever. He did. It was as natural as breathing, going from best friends to something that was so much _more._ Something that was so special, something that felt so right.

But all good things come to an end. Matt remembered hearing that somewhere, remembered hearing it and feeling the floor fall out beneath him. Good things always come to an end; so of course, the good thing with Troye had to end, too.

The ending was strangely gradual. It was the little things that started it—the coming home with love bites and talking on the phone late into the night. It started when his father began to notice, when he began asking if there were any pretty girls at school and why he was always with Troye.

It began sitting on the beach, looking out at the water, with Troye sitting beside him. It started with Troye's arm wrapped around his shoulders, with the promise of a million tomorrows lingering in the air.

“I'm proud of you,” Matt said.

“Why?”

“Because you have everything figured out.”

The waves washed the shore. Troye kissed the top of his head. “Nobody has everything figured out, Matt. Not even me.”

“I'm still proud,” Matt whispered. The tears were there again, but they were always there, clouding his vision and making it hard to see anything good at all. “I think I might be bisexual, Troye. I looked it up. I think that's what I am.”

“Alright.” Troye withdrew his arm, scooting around in the sand so he could see him better. His eyes were so blue; they held everything beautiful in this world. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't know what I want.” Matt shrugged. “I need some time to figure it out.”

“That's fine,” Troye said. “You have all the time in the world to figure out who you are. Never forget that.”

“I wish I didn't have to go home tonight,” Matt whispered, shivering when a cool breeze swept across the beach and the sun disappeared from the sky. “Why can't sunsets last forever?”

“They can,” Troye said. “Someday, we'll find our eternal sunset. And it will be away from this damn blue neighbourhood and all of the fools in it.”

 

/ / /

 

Matt didn't want to go home that night. But when did he ever? Sometimes he wished he lived with Troye and his family. It would be so much simpler. And he'd been offered to live with them, of course. Of course he had. They hated his father more than he did, which was no small feat.

But he still loved his father. Just the thought of leaving him alone, leaving him at the hands of his own addiction—that didn't feel quite right.

The house was too quiet when he walked in. The lights were all out, and he held his cellphone close. Troye was on speed dial. If he needed him, he would come. There was no doubt he would come.

He opened up his bedroom door to find his father sitting on his bed. Instantly, Matt felt the urge to run. Just run from this damn house with its damn problems.

But he didn't run. He just stood there and waited. And he knew all of it—the freedom he felt with himself, the freedom he felt with Troye—was all over.

All good things come to an end, and this good thing was no different.

 

/ / /

 

Matt didn't talk to Troye in three days. _Three days._ He was stuck at home with two black eyes and the memories of what his father had said to him flooding his soul. Without Troye there to save him, without Troye there to talk to him, without Troye there to be with him for the rest of his life.

_Three days._ His phone had been ringing nonstop, countless messages filling his inbox. Sometimes, he would hear Troye knock on the front door, threatening to pull it off the hinges if he had to, but he never did.

Matt wished he would have.

It was while he was outside with his father that Troye finally caught him. He looked beautiful, as always. But when didn't he? So self-assured with himself and all that he was; such a blinding sight. Something Matt had never felt he deserved.

But Matt still wanted to tear that blue jean jacket right off of Troye, wanted to bite into his skin until it was obvious that he belonged to him and only him.

He wanted to, he wanted to do it so badly he could have screamed. But he was glued to the spot, paralyzed with fear. It was his father who forced him forward. The memory of beatings made Matt's body go limp; the memory of it made his mind feel like it would never work right again.

“Tell that son of a bitch to never come here again,” his father growled. “I meant what I said. If I ever see you two together, I'll kill you both.”

Matt really hated himself. For the smile on Troye's face when he began walking towards him, at how quickly the smile fell when he saw the bruises marking Matt's face.

He hated himself for what he had to say. For everything he didn't say.

“We're over, Troye,” he said softly. “You shouldn't come here anymore.”

Troye blinked, hurt spilling over his features. It wasn't realization; it wasn't comfort. Only hurt and pain and everything Matt had always promised himself he would never be. He'd always said he would never be like his father, but here he was.

Here he was.

Troye tried to make sense of the situation, reaching to pull Matt into a hug. But Matt resisted, darting away from him and back towards his father. When he looked back, Troye was still standing there, hands hanging limply at his sides.

Matt wished Troye had run after him. Wished he would have yelled to the heavens that he knew Matt was lying and that he would never let anything stand between them.

But it didn't work like that. It never did. And Matt was forced to put a smile on his face and promise his father he wouldn't have to worry about Troye being around, not ever again.

Not for the rest of his life.

 

/ / /

 

Years passed. Or maybe it was days. However long it was, Matt felt it. He felt every moment spent without Troye like a stab to the heart. Without Troye there to pick him up when he was down, without him there to glue his heart back into the gaping hole he called a chest on a weekly basis, he felt unbearably alone. Pretty soon, he wouldn't have a heart anymore. It would be crushed without any chance of salvation.

Seeing Troye was the worst, because he had to pretend he didn't care. Holding hands with that girl—the one his father approved of—was the worst. Because she didn't know why he missed school. It wasn't because he was sick or because he was going on vacation, it was because he was beaten to the point he couldn't form a coherent thought.

She didn't know him, and he didn't want her to.

But Troye knew him. So well and so clearly that he just knew Troye would burst into his bedroom one night and tell him he understood everything. Why he had to be so distant. Why he was so scared—because he couldn't bear his father hurting Troye. He just _couldn't._

And then any chance there ever was—it ended. It was over.

Troye and his blue eyes, they were gone, with nothing to replace them.

 

**TALK ME DOWN**

_I wanted the words to flow from me like a damn river, but they didn't. Instead I was left standing there, forced to watch as the love of my life turned away from me. Do you know how that felt? Do you know how it felt to know I would never be with you again? I wanted to say so much, but I was already gone. Why weren't you there to talk me down? Why weren't you there to save me from myself when I needed you the most?_

 

/ / /

 

Funerals were ugly affairs. Matt hated them. He thought he had held it together pretty well so far. After all, how were you supposed to react when your best friend turned lover turned stranger killed himself?

The casket was lowered, the ground was covered with fresh dirt. And Matt just _lost_ it.

That girl tried to console him, but it was impossible. Somebody pulled her away, leaving Matt to cry and wish that he'd been stronger. The person he had believed to be the strongest of them both—he wasn't, really. He just wasn't.

He was gone.

The funeral party began to scatter. Only a few people waited for him to pull himself together, but when he didn't, they left, too.

When the were all gone, when his cries turned into pitiful whimpers, he stood up, wiping the dirt from his pants. He wandered among the graves, touching the smooth gray stone and the inscriptions of hundreds of people he would never know.

Troye was sitting on the white steps that led to the chapel, watching the sunset.

Matt should have felt frightened. Or hopeful. But he just felt like it was normal for Troye to be sitting there in a crumpled-up suit. Normal for him to see a ghost.

“You weren't supposed to leave first,” Matt said, reaching down to touch Troye's shoulder. “You were supposed to wait for me.”

Troye loosened his tie. Even dead, he was beautiful, Matt thought. Even with tears in his eyes and a pallor to his skin, he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. “I know,” he said softly. “But it wasn't fair for me to wait.”

That girl wandered into view, tears staining her cheeks. She was just a wisp of a girl in the cemetery, the gray clouds of the sky making her look as gone as Troye already was. “It'll be alright, Matt,” she promised. “I know you loved him. His mother told me everything.”

Matt looked back at Troye, but he was already gone. That girl took his hand, pulling him away and into her car and somehow they were on the cliffs. The cliffs that overlooked the sea.

The cliffs that Troye ended his own life on. The waves hit the rocks below, and Matt thought about it. He thought about how it must have felt for Troye to give up everything, to let himself go.

“It'll be alright,” the girl said again. “I'm here for you.”

Matt closed his eyes. He didn't want the same fate as Troye, he didn't. He needed to get out of this damn blue neighbourhood, needed to allow himself to be who he needed to be.

Troye had promised him that he had all the time in the world, and Matt decided to allow himself to believe that. The entire world was waiting for him.

And Matt decided to live.


End file.
